


Save Me From My Hell

by MistressMae



Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressMae/pseuds/MistressMae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fiction takes place a week before Dean comes This fiction takes place a week before Dean comes back from hell in season 4. This fiction only deals with the brothers. There are no other characters from supernatural in it aside from Castiel occasionally. There will be new made up characters. I am focusing on the brothers relationship. I also took the demon blood addiction storyline out, and changed it into to drug addiction (you'll see why). So everything else in the series pretty much happens. John died selling his soul for Dean. Sam lost Jessica the same way Mary died. I down pay the Sam/Jessica love storyline because Sam has always been in love with Dean. Comments are welcome and let me know if there's something you think I should try writing in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Sam lied on the bed smiling blissfully thinking about the first time he had ever kissed Dean, knowing they had come so far since then. Being 100% secure in there relationship, knowing, without a doubt, he wouldn't change a thing. Dean was on his side muttering something about being hungry and slowly slipped out of the sheets. It took him awhile to emerge from the sheet and sit on the edge of the huge king sized four poster bed. Dean rolled his neck working out all the kinks that Sam knew had everything to do with what they were doing all night. Dean stood up. Sam admired his perfectly sculpted ass. When Dean bent over to pick up his pants Sam smiled, and leaned over and smacked his bottom with as much force as his loose limps could muster. Dean gasped at the unknown sharp sensation he felt.

"Ouch!" He said meaning it.

Sam just laughed and folded his arms behind his head watching Dean slip into his pants muscles working as he bended. Dean didn't put on anything else just his faded jeans slightly torn at the bottom and made his way into the kitchen for sustenance. Sam fell back onto the pillows his long, wild hair spilling around him. After a few minutes Sam smelled the intoxicating sent of fresh brewed coffee and thought of how much he truly loved Dean.

Chapter 1: Hurts like hell

Sam jumped up his own screams waking him. He turned on the lamp on the bedside table, and looked at himself on the large mirror over the dresser in the dank little motel room he had rented, unable to bear the impala for one more minute. It wasn't that he didn't love his brother's pride and joy, it was just it smelled so much like Dean, and he could clearly see him, and feel him every second he was driving it. He let his mind wonder a bit. Remembering the first time Dean ever drove it. The look of wonder on his face as he made it above fifty, the way Dean's eyes always lit up emerald green and they crinkled up so tight when he was really happy.

Sam didn't recognize the loud sob of agony that escaped his lips. He did it again, thought about Dean too long. He braced himself as the his body started shaking with deep blood curdling sobs. He waited for the loud horrible shrieks to stop and ebb into tiny whimpers. It had almost been four months since he watched those hellhounds rip Dean, the only thing in his whole existence that ever mattered to him, to shreds. He clenched his first as tight as he could until his nails dug deep into his palm. The need to kill something evil was working up a heavy appetite in him. He knew he would have to go on a hunt soon to be able to keep his sanity.

Once he was brave enough he looked in the mirror again. His face looked pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was dry and had no shine, mainly because he gave no fucks about his appearance anymore. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He wanted to be completely unapproachable. He held himself tightly when he felt his body start to shake again. This time it had nothing to do with the pain he felt in his chest at the absence of his brother. He let himself feel like crap for a little bit. He started to get a painful stabbing in his head. His body shook uncontrollably. He felt like he was freezing meanwhile he was sweating profusely. He couldn't bring himself to look at himself anymore thinking about how much of an incredible piece of shit he truly was.

"Why!" He screamed at nothing. "Why!" He demanded into the empty room. "Why." He said one more time softer as the tears started rolling down his face warm and stinging from crying so much. He was pissed, in agony, he wanted to bring back Dean so he could kick his ass as hard as he possibly could. How could he sell his soul to save him? How did he not know that he would rather die one thousand deaths then spend one day away from him. He shuddered at the thought of what horrible torture Dean must be enduring right now.

That was it, the thought that set him over the edge. He sprung to his feet his sweat pants and gray shirt drenched in sweat and reached for the bottle of hydrocodone he kept on the nightstand shoving the last four in his mouth swallowing them with the bottle of whisky that was always near him. He walked into the small kitchen area with the bottle and chugged half of it getting a much needed buzz as he sank into, the way too small for his 6ft 4in frame, desk chair. He took out his phone and texted his dealer DizzyBone.

"What do you have that's good?" He sent

"I got some really good soda, and just got some hair dye." Dizzy answered almost instantly. Sam loved that Dizzy treated selling drugs like an actual business. He was actually professional. Showed up on time, things like that. He hated the stupid paranoid code names he used.

"I need the usual plus 40 of hair dye." Sam had never tried heroine but he was down for anything that helped him escape his hell on earth.

"Alright so that's the 4 cans soda, 10 donuts, and 4 hair dyes?" Dizzy answered just as fast. Sam smiled at him using donut for hydrocodone. Then instantly felt guilty and his face went straight faced serious again.

"Yeah." He texted still stinging from the first smile that crossed his face since...

"Where are you at?" Dizzy asked

"Mo's motel." Sam typed shaking his head at the thought he just had about...

"Give me 15." Dizzy answered. Sam also loved that Dizzy delivered.

"Thanks Dizz." He typed as he walked into the bathroom. After he peed. He took the coldest shower known to man, and waited anxiously for his next fix to be delivered to his damn doorstep. He clutched the cash in his hand tightly as he sat. He was ready, ready to escape. He didn't want to make small talk he just wanted this to transaction to be as fast as possible.omments are welcome and let me know if there's something you think I should try writing in. 

Prologue

Sam lied on the bed smiling blissfully thinking about the first time he had ever kissed Dean, knowing they had come so far since then. Being 100% secure in there relationship, knowing, without a doubt, he wouldn't change a thing. Dean was on his side muttering something about being hungry and slowly slipped out of the sheets. It took him awhile to emerge from the sheet and sit on the edge of the huge king sized four poster bed. Dean rolled his neck working out all the kinks that Sam knew had everything to do with what they were doing all night. Dean stood up. Sam admired his perfectly sculpted ass. When Dean bent over to pick up his pants Sam smiled, and leaned over and smacked his bottom with as much force as his loose limps could muster. Dean gasped at the unknown sharp sensation he felt.

"Ouch!" He said meaning it.

Sam just laughed and folded his arms behind his head watching Dean slip into his pants muscles working as he bended. Dean didn't put on anything else just his faded jeans slightly torn at the bottom and made his way into the kitchen for sustenance. Sam fell back onto the pillows his long, wild hair spilling around him. After a few minutes Sam smelled the intoxicating sent of fresh brewed coffee and thought of how much he truly loved Dean.

Chapter 1: Hurts like hell

Sam jumped up his own screams waking him. He turned on the lamp on the bedside table, and looked at himself on the large mirror over the dresser in the dank little motel room he had rented, unable to bear the impala for one more minute. It wasn't that he didn't love his brother's pride and joy, it was just it smelled so much like Dean, and he could clearly see him, and feel him every second he was driving it. He let his mind wonder a bit. Remembering the first time Dean ever drove it. The look of wonder on his face as he made it above fifty, the way Dean's eyes always lit up emerald green and they crinkled up so tight when he was really happy.

Sam didn't recognize the loud sob of agony that escaped his lips. He did it again, thought about Dean too long. He braced himself as the his body started shaking with deep blood curdling sobs. He waited for the loud horrible shrieks to stop and ebb into tiny whimpers. It had almost been four months since he watched those hellhounds rip Dean, the only thing in his whole existence that ever mattered to him, to shreds. He clenched his first as tight as he could until his nails dug deep into his palm. The need to kill something evil was working up a heavy appetite in him. He knew he would have to go on a hunt soon to be able to keep his sanity.

Once he was brave enough he looked in the mirror again. His face looked pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was dry and had no shine, mainly because he gave no fucks about his appearance anymore. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He wanted to be completely unapproachable. He held himself tightly when he felt his body start to shake again. This time it had nothing to do with the pain he felt in his chest at the absence of his brother. He let himself feel like crap for a little bit. He started to get a painful stabbing in his head. His body shook uncontrollably. He felt like he was freezing meanwhile he was sweating profusely. He couldn't bring himself to look at himself anymore thinking about how much of an incredible piece of shit he truly was.

"Why!" He screamed at nothing. "Why!" He demanded into the empty room. "Why." He said one more time softer as the tears started rolling down his face warm and stinging from crying so much. He was pissed, in agony, he wanted to bring back Dean so he could kick his ass as hard as he possibly could. How could he sell his soul to save him? How did he not know that he would rather die one thousand deaths then spend one day away from him. He shuddered at the thought of what horrible torture Dean must be enduring right now.

That was it, the thought that set him over the edge. He sprung to his feet his sweat pants and gray shirt drenched in sweat and reached for the bottle of hydrocodone he kept on the nightstand shoving the last four in his mouth swallowing them with the bottle of whisky that was always near him. He walked into the small kitchen area with the bottle and chugged half of it getting a much needed buzz as he sank into, the way too small for his 6ft 4in frame, desk chair. He took out his phone and texted his dealer DizzyBone.

"What do you have that's good?" He sent

"I got some really good soda, and just got some hair dye." Dizzy answered almost instantly. Sam loved that Dizzy treated selling drugs like an actual business. He was actually professional. Showed up on time, things like that. He hated the stupid paranoid code names he used.

"I need the usual plus 40 of hair dye." Sam had never tried heroine but he was down for anything that helped him escape his hell on earth.

"Alright so that's the 4 cans soda, 10 donuts, and 4 hair dyes?" Dizzy answered just as fast. Sam smiled at him using donut for hydrocodone. Then instantly felt guilty and his face went straight faced serious again.

"Yeah." He texted still stinging from the first smile that crossed his face since...

"Where are you at?" Dizzy asked

"Mo's motel." Sam typed shaking his head at the thought he just had about...

"Give me 15." Dizzy answered. Sam also loved that Dizzy delivered.

"Thanks Dizz." He typed as he walked into the bathroom. After he peed. He took the coldest shower known to man, and waited anxiously for his next fix to be delivered to his damn doorstep. He clutched the cash in his hand tightly as he sat. He was ready, ready to escape. He didn't want to make small talk he just wanted this to transaction to be as fast as possible.


	2. Burning Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dean's perspective in hell. Dean tourtures a soul.

Chapter 2: Burning flesh

Dean screamed as he felt the fire making his skin bubble and writhed in pain. He was pinned to the ceiling like his mom, burning. But he couldn't die. He burned for what seemed like days. His new boss, Spike, had a flare for the theatric. Dean pissed him off so he made him burn, right next to Mary as Sam cried in his crib. He fought not to look at the perfect replica of his mother next to him, begging him to make it stop. He didn't dare look at his perfect little baby brother reaching for him, begging to be picked up. He tried to get to him the first few hours but it was impossible. His mother, and baby Sammy's cries, were now falling on deaf ears. He clamped his mouth shut and went into his happy place. He was next to Sam in the impala reaching 80 laughing and singing Back in Black at the top of his lungs.

All the sudden he was back in front of Spike in the room Spike used to tortured souls. He felt the rush of adrenaline in his veins having just been tortured himself four five days straight.

Spike's room was fire red. There where several beams to hang people on. There was restraints, a spiked table. Several torture devices. And large toys.

"So are you gonna torture that pretty little whore for me kid?" Spike yelled in Dean's ear enough to cause pain. He pointed his cane at Dean and smacked him full force across the face with it. Dean swayed a little but made no sound of pain, knowing that was what Spike got off on, and if he wasn't careful he could be tied up in Spike's torture chamber for years. He knew Spike would rape and beat him senseless until he was a whipped collared pet at his side. He'd seen him do it to many souls. Dean looked him straight in the eyes. Spike's eyes were the deepest red he had ever seen. The green skin around his eyes was saggy. He was naked ready to rape someone when ever he had to. Dean stifled a gag as he looked at his pointy teeth yellow and black.

"Yes master Spike." Dean said simply, knowing anything he said could set Spike off in two seconds.

"Good little soldier." Spike nodded approvingly. "You know I couldn't have made you a better one if I tried. I know it was your tough daddy that beat you into submission, before you where ever even a thought in my mind." Spike laughed. Dean winced at the sting of his words, but knew better than to show a reaction at any mention of his family members.

It was too late Spike noticed. Dean smoothed his cut off shorts, the only article of clothing his was allowed, giving his hands something to do rather than wrapping them around Spike's throat. "Oh my little soldier loves his daddy. I'd love someone who endured 100 years of torture for me too Dean. There's nothing wrong with admitting it."

Dean jutted his chin out and gave Spike the most placid look he could muster. "I don't know what that is anymore." He shrugged turning his face evil like he was satan himself.

"Perfect, so perfect for me." Spike said approvingly. "I can't wait to be inside you someday." He said very matter-of-factly. "I would have done it years ago but I want you to be my apprentice. No one will respect you if they witness me rape you, you screaming like a little girl, forced to come shamefully in front of all of them." Dean knew he could do it. That was his trademark, being able to make souls come no matter how much pain they were in. "All in good time my little apprentice. But something to keep you aware that I am your boss, you're everything!" Spike yelled right in Dean's face.

Spike snapped his fingers and Dean's dad, 'not Dad' he told himself over and over again, stood in front of Spike fully naked.

"Well..." Spike spoke to John pointing at his penis.

John sunk to his knees and Dean left slamming the door behind him as he heard his dad's, 'not dad's' mouth slick onto Spike.

He went back to his own torture chamber and picked up the knife on his table of tools. He looked Bianca in the face very softly. She blinked back tears at the kindness and gentleness in his eyes. She looked at him like he was gonna rescue her from this hell that was her new life. "I'm sorry." Dean said. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to. If you're really good you won't have to be tortured anymore. They'll let you..." He stopped not wanting to say what he had become.

"Never." Bianca said very self assured. "I could never intentionally hurt people. The way you do.. You are the scum of the earth. You are the reason hell exists!" She yelled, becoming angry at the false hope on Dean's face.

"I know you're not a bad person Bianca." Dean said pronouncing her name softly. "But it's not my fault you're here. You sold your soul. You sealed you're fate." Dean said calmly knowing he was right. Spike only assigned Dean souls who sold their souls, as a cruel joke at Dean's expense.

"I had to!" Bianca cried. "He was gonna die. I couldn't just watch him get weaker and weaker every day."

"Who?" Dean asked keeping himself calm.

"My brother he was only 6 years old. My parents were dead he was all I had. I had to save him." Her face turned very sad. "I got him ready though. He's the smartest 16 year old I've ever known."

Dean felt physical pain at what she was saying. It hit too close to home. He wanted to curl in the corner and cry. He wanted to screw the sadness out of Bianca. He wanted to hold her and feel comfort by comforting her. But he didn't do any of that. All he did was run his finger across her jaw so lightly she wasn't even sure it happened. She convinced herself she imagined it. Then he looked at her and said the only thing he could. "Do yourself a favor honey, don't ever say anything like that again. The more you say here the more they have to use against you."

He took the knife and pressed it to her skin. She was all tied up and helpless on the cold hard metal table. He carved her from her lower left breast all the way to her belly button, shutting out the screams of protest she was giving. "Like I said I don't want to do this, you'll understand in about 20 hell years."

He continued his torture of her carving, burning her, hitting her as hard as he could. After a while he started to enjoy it, being able to hurt something and escape from all the pain he was put through. He made sure she looked brutal. He knew Spike would check his work, and if he didn't do it good enough he would be punished for days, and Spike would take over where Dean left off with poor Bianca, making her wish she could be tortured by Dean, by anyone else. He didn't tell her any of this because he couldn't risk her telling anyone, which she would. You would say anything if someone hurt you enough.

Dean only dealt out pain. It was the torturer's personal preference when it came to those kind of things. "Whatever gets you off." Was Spike's motto. Dean didn't get into his victims heads because he hated it when it was done to him. He never used their families or other weaknessess against them. He didn't use fear like other torturer demons loved. He never raped any of them, because that was the only fear he had left. Spike was grooming him, took a deep interest in Dean. When Spike raped a soul he just wanted submission, but he was turning Dean into a master torturer. Dean would never do those things to any souls.

Physical pain he could take. It was a welcomed distraction from everything else, but the real torture was the mind games. The slow emotional torture Spike loved. He wanted to tell Bianca all of this but if Spike found out he would never stop hurting Dean in that way that was unbearable. Dean remember the screams from Sammy and his mom. The smell of burning flesh. The smell he could never forget.


	3. Pleasantly Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's perspective getting very high to escape his pain. Sam sees a hallucination of Dean.

Chapter 3: Pleasantly numb

Sam was haunched over in the corner of the motel room pleasantly numb. Numb from the pain. The relief was like cool aloe gel on a bad sunburn. It was the best he felt in a long time. Sam had tried all the drugs he bought. And was still drinking his whiskey. Dizz didn't linger he had other places he needed to be. So Sam dove right into bliss mere seconds after he left. Sam knew he was an addict, knew he couldn't live a single day without chasing some sort of high. He knew all of this and couldn't bring himself to care.

He didn't care about anything. He didn't care about himself. He didn't care if he died. He wished he would die. He secretly pondered slipping away into a permanent sleep. He would never feel anything again. He would have done it by now but then Dean would have died for nothing. Although that was what he died for. Sam was an addict, he was weak, he was nothing. Sam closed his eyes for a little while then they flew open when he noticed he wasn't breathing. His chest heaved as he inhaled deeply, feeling fire in his lungs.

Sam sat on his bottom and brought his knees to his chest. He put his head in his hands and just kept his head bowed for what seemed like hours. He didn't pray though. What could he say, that he wanted Dean back? God had to have know that already. That he wanted help from his drug problem? Cause that wasn't what he wanted. He could beg for death. He shook his head no at the thought. He would do it when he was ready.

He would put his gun to his head and pull the trigger and escape the hell he made with his own hands. He knew that everything was his fault. If he wasn't stupid, and got himself killed in the first place, Dean would be here. If he would've been faster, stronger, wiser, Dean would be here. If he wasn't so weak Dean would be here. He shuddered at the thought of Dean seeing him like this. He could see the look of disappointment on his face. "If you wouldn't have left me." He said to no one. "Why!" He said.

Sam started laughing uncontrollably. "He didn't even know about the demon blood" he thought. "Maybe if he would've known he would have just let me die, or kill me like he was supposed to in the first damn place!"

"He didn't know!" he shouted until it bounced of the walls and echoed back to him. "Jake." He thought. If he could do anything it would be brining him back a hundred times, and killing him a different way each time. It was his fault Dean was gone. "It was my fault." He said out loud. Angry at himself for forgetting even for a second. "I wonder what it will be like when I die?" He thought getting excited. All he wanted was the final release of death. "I should just do it now!" He yelled

Sam reached for the bottle of hydrocodone. He knew if he took them all he would surely die. He took the cap off and dumped them in his hand. He rolled the pills around in his hand like they were precious treasure. And to him they were. They were his out. "Finally." He whispered as he brushed his lips over them.

"Stop!" Sam's head shot up fast as he heard the very familiar voice. "Sammy, no." The voice echoed in his ears the most pleasant sound he had ever heard. It was Dean, his only reason for existence, his everything.

Fresh tears sprang to his eyes. "not Dean. Not Dean. Not Dean." He repeated trying not to cling desperately to the hope that it was Dean. He put his head back in his hands his long hair engulfing him in warmth, protecting him.

"Sammy." Dean repeated. "Please." Dean pleaded. "Come on, look at me Sam." Dean demanded.

"No!" Sam screamed. "You're not real. You're never real." Sam gasped trying to control his emotions. He felt Dean brush a feather light finger across his check, under his chin coaxing his head up. Sam let him. But refused to open his eyes.

"Come on Sammy look at me." Dean said gently.

"I'm just hallucinating." Sam whispered his voice cracking.

"It doesn't matter. You need this. This is what you wanted. This is why you got high half out of your mind. You need me." Dean said calmly. "I'm here. Just like you wanted. I'm here for you. I'll do anything to make it better Sammy."

Sam obeyed and slowly opened his eyes. "See it's me." Dean whispered.

"No it's not. It's my twisted version of you." Sam corrected. Sam looked into Dean's piercing green eyes. He was just as he remembered. He wasn't bloody and broken like the day he died. He was perfect like he always was.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You have to know this isn't what I wanted." Dean said regretful.

Sam started sobbing. "Y...you..." Dean looked into his eyes waiting patiently for Sam to compose himself. "Don't apologize to me!" Sam said angrily through the sobs. "It's my fault...my fault...my fault...I'm s...s..." Sam tried to continue but he was wrecked from Dean's apology.

"Shh." Dean soothed. "Hey Jude don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better." Dean started singing softly to Sam the way he did when he had a bad dream when he was little. Sam relaxed letting Dean's soft sweet voice coax him to sleep. He shifted and laid on his side with his head in Dean's lap, as Dean continued singing his favorite Beatles song. Sam fell into a deep sleep with Dean stroking his long brown hair.

When Sam woke Dean was gone. He was shaking again drenched in sweat. He jumped up like a ninja. Took two hydrocodone. Downed the last of his whiskey. Then he went online looking for something to kill.


	4. Stillness brings the most pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's perspective from Hell.

Chapter 4: Stillness Brings The Worst Pain

Dean was finally able to sit down and relax. He sat in the one chair he had in his chamber. Spike had declared that he bloodied up Bianca nice and pretty, and this was his reward. It was worse when he stood still. He couldn't be still. That's when the pain started piercing him right in his chest. He took three deep steading breaths. Then he melted into his pain.

It was easy to be carved and cut into. The worse was the mind fucks that Spike loved to give him. He watched him repeatedly rape his little brother (a 10 year old version of Sam), his mother (beautiful, vibrant.), and his father (screaming like he'd never seen before). He burned all of them because he knew Dean's feelings about fire. So when he was asked to dole out some pain, it was a high he had never felt before. But it was the worst when he was still.

He let his mind wander to Sam. He pictured his big green puppy dog eyes, his long floppy hair, his smile that was so huge. Every time Sam gave him his biggest smile all Dean saw was his mother. He knew how much his mother loved her baby, her Sammy. That was one of the main reasons he took such good care of him, because his mother didn't have the chance. He was tender with him, the way he remembered Mary was with Dean. Sam thought dad had drilled it into Dean's head to look after him. But it was more than that. John taught Dean how to protect Sam, but he loved him sweetly the way he knew Mary would've. "Sammy." He whispered one word.

Dean felt like he was crumbling under the weight of his pain, but he knew better than to cry. One tear in hell turned into a million when Spike got ahold of you. "Sam." He whispered again involuntarily. He pictured Sam safe and perfect somewhere on earth. He pictured him drinking a cold one laughing with some pretty little blond. He knew that that most likely wasn't what was going on, but he forced the image into his head. "You'll be fine Sammy. You're safe, perfect." Dean thought as he got to his feet. He knew that most likely this was a test from Spike. Spike wanted Dean to thirst for blood. He didn't give breaks.

Dean walked across the cold hard floor. He looked at his set up. His flogger, belt, knives, canes, stood high on the wall mocking him. Telling him he was horrible for having used all of them, and for enjoying it. Dean shook off the thought. He was making himself as harsh as possible. He shut himself off to all the things he felt.

Dean knocked hard on Spike's door knowing it would make Spike feel a sense of pride. "Only little girls knock softly. What are you scared I'll get pissed and beat you? That's something you have to risk. You must always be ready for a beating. Don't tiptoe around to stop them, unless you want to be weak. I have no use for weak tourturers. Maybe I need to send you to Flashback!" He yelled at Dean.

Flashback was a room in which all of you're highlights surrounded you. It was pleasurable at first. He could taste his mom's pumpkin pie, feel Sam's tiny hand in his, see his dad's warm smile. But then it would get corrupted. The memory would change into something dark. His dad would bend his mom over and beat her. Sam would scream and cry and Dean would start shaking him. It was horrible because those memories would replace the good ones. He hardly had any good ones already, good ones where they were a family, happy, unaware of the storm that was about to hit them.

Spike emerged from his chamber without warning he smacked Dean hard with his cane right across his jaw. Then again over his head. Dean didn't flinch he simply smiled and looked Spike dead in his red eyes. "Are we gonna keep playing these fucking games? Or are you gonna bring me my next victim." Dean said coldly.

At that Spike smiled his pointy disgusting teeth gleaming with saliva. "Okay my good perfect soldier." He snapped his fingers and said pleased. "He's waiting tied up nice for you." Then her turned on his back to Dean and went back in his chamber. Dean could hear the screams echoing from somebody getting it real good.

Dean decided to ignore it and continue in his chamber ready to work the next victim over nice and slowly.


End file.
